


I'm dealing in demons’ love, it's just a matter of time

by kiwiana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest, Voyeurism, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-03
Updated: 2010-05-03
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:49:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2129031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/kiwiana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a typical Thursday night for the Winchesters, really – well, kind of – and Sam’s not really that surprised when it doesn’t turn out the way he wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm dealing in demons’ love, it's just a matter of time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coyotesuspect](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coyotesuspect/gifts).



> Set during and after 5.19 but with slight spoilers for 5.20. Title is from a London After Midnight song. 
> 
> None of the Supernatural characters belong to me, or I'd be a lot richer than I am.
> 
> Originally published on LiveJournal 2010-05-03.

The truth is, Sam’s feeling pretty goddamn frustrated.

Not just with Heaven and Hell closing in around him although, yeah, that’s fairly annoying. But when it comes down to it, Sam’s frustrated on a much more base level. Between getting shot and going to Heaven and the Whore of Babylon and their long-lost brother getting resurrected but, oh yeah, he’s probably an angel’s bitch now, Sam hasn’t had a chance to fuck Dean in weeks. Hell, he hasn’t even found the time to take care of himself for a while; when the Apocalypse is looming over your head, a lot of things take priority over jerking off in the shower.

Which is why, when they pull into the Elysian Fields Motel, Sam is hoping for one night off despite what he says to Dean. One night off, that’s all. Six or seven solid hours’ sleep, then he can fuck Dean firmly into the mattress before they move on to the next Biblical omen.

But, you know. Some Gods show up, the only angel who might have been on their side gets killed. It’s a typical Thursday night for the Winchesters, really—well, kind of—and Sam’s not really that surprised when it doesn’t turn out the way he wanted.

But he is pretty fucking horny.

* * *

They drive well into the night; Kali disappears out of the back seat between one mile marker and the next. It’s nearly three a.m. before Dean heaves a sigh, pulling over and switching off the ignition.

“Looks like we’re sleeping rough tonight, Sammy,” he admits. “God knows when he’ll hit another town.”

It certainly won’t be the first time the Impala’s doubled for a bed, especially lately, when they’re running against the clock to save the world. But Sam has finally had enough. He’s sick of sleeping in cars, or too-small beds; sick of waking up with an aching back and a hard-on he can’t do anything about. He’s tired of it all and besides, there’s the thing he’d never say out loud—they’re running out of time. Who knows how many more uncomfortable naps the two of them have left before the Apocalypse hits them?

Abruptly, he unfolds his legs, stepping out of the car into the brisk night air. He takes a deep breath, welcoming the slight burn in his lungs at the difference in temperature, before leaning down through the open door to meet his brother’s questioning gaze.

“Get in the back, Dean,” he says, low and heated. It’s not a request and they both know it, but Dean wouldn’t be Dean unless he put up a token protest.

“What the hell are you talking ‘bout, Sam? You barely fit in there yourself, let alone both of us,” he objects. Sam growls and leans further into the car, hauling Dean across the gearbox by his shirt and kissing him fiercely, leaving no room for discussion. Dean groans into the touch before pulling himself through the gap between the front seats.

Sam shuts his door and pulls open the one behind it, clambering in beside his brother. Dean messes with the lever on the driver’s seat, pushing it forward as far as it will go to give them a little more legroom, and Sam does the same with the passenger’s seat before he shuts the door.

It’s cramped as hell and Sam has to twist on a weird angle to face his brother, but it’s all worth it when Dean licks a stripe up his neck. Sam shudders, instantly hard. Dean chuckles, the teasing grin firmly on his face.

“Gettin’ a little worked up there, little brother?” he asks. There’s a smartass response on the tip of Sam’s tongue, but then Dean’s hand is working his fly open and really, Sam can’t be expected to think at all when Dean’s hand is on his dick and he’s fucking  _twisting_  it like that.

Sam knows he’s not going to last long if they keep this up, but he’s damned if he’s not going to finish this buried deep inside Dean, even if it’s going to be close to impossible in this fucking car. He reaches into Dean’s pocket and pulls out the packet of lube and the condom, where he knew they’d be; old habits die hard, after all.

Dean hisses when he sees what Sam’s got in his hand and he yanks Sam’s pants, already hanging open, down his thighs before taking his own off completely. There’s an awkward moment as they both try to figure out the logistics; Dean’s too tall to ride him in this car and they’re both too long to lie on the back seat. Finally, grinning, Dean kneels on the floor facing the back of the car, his legs spread as wide as he can get them in order to let Sam kneel behind him.

Sam groans at the sight of his brother all spread out and waiting for him and he rips open the lube packet, drizzling some over two fingers before sliding them into Dean. Dean moans, a heated, desperate sound, as Sam stretches him out, prepping him.

When Dean starts keening, Sam knows he’s ready; he slides the condom over his dick and squeezes the remaining lube into his hand, slicking his cock before he grabs Dean’s hips, bracing himself. It’s not the most comfortable place they’ve fucked, not by a long shot—his foot’s tucked under the seat in order to fit and what feels like spare change is digging into his knee—but Dean turns a heated, desperate gaze on him and none of that matters.

“Fuckin’ do it, Sammy,” Dean begs and that’s all the encouragement Sam needs; he slams into his brother in one smooth stroke as Dean moans. One of Sam’s hands is wrapped around Dean’s cock, the other grasping his hip as Sam tries to keep his balance. He sets a hard pace because it’s what they both need, all their pent-up frustration and fear and anger spilling over. Neither of them last long; Dean’s the first to let go, Sam’s name on his lips as he shudders beneath Sam’s hands. Sam fucks him through the aftershocks, tumbling over the edge just after.

They don’t move for a moment, both coming down from their orgasm-induced highs. Eventually, they both become aware of the way their knees are starting to ache, their legs cramping up. They both straighten themselves up somewhat and Dean steps out of the car briefly, grabbing a blanket out of the trunk and, to Sam’s surprise, returns to the back seat. He slips back in next to Sam without a word and throws the blanket over them both.

They don’t show affection often; neither of them are really the sort for it and besides, why would they need to? They’ve both proved that they would die for each other and at the end of the day, stupid though the whole thing was, selling your soul is infinitely more meaningful than holding hands in the street.

This, though... this is nice, Sam thinks to himself as Dean rests a head on his shoulder. The world is ending and everyone seems to think he’s going to end up as Lucifer’s meat puppet, but as long as Sam has his brother, things can’t look all bad.

Five minutes later, they’re both asleep.

* * *

Fifteen miles away, the demon Crowley is silently shaking with laughter.

The Winchesters’ co-dependency is an old joke in Hell; the way they continually sell themselves, literally and figuratively, for each other, something only the truest of soulmates usually do. But no one actually thinks there’s any  _truth_  to it—just a fucked up childhood and a healthy dose of daddy issues.

This, though... this is brilliant. It’s about time Crowley pays those two a visit, see how they’re going with their half-cocked plan to kill the devil—or is it entrap, now?—and save the world from eternal damnation, or whatever it is they’re planning to achieve.

And oh, he is going to  _enjoy_  this conversation.


End file.
